Of Physicists & Rock Stars
by DrawnToTheRhythm
Summary: Set during Threads. In the time between Daniel returning and Jack leaving, a few friends from the past stir up trouble of the romantic kind for our favourite team. S/J
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, owned by MGM yadda, yadda, yadda, no copyright infringement intended. I'm just playing with the crayons in the box.

A/N: I wanted to write a fic that countered all of those Celtic cliché fics owing to Jack's "Irish" heritage. I also incorporated a few other snippets of ideas I'd had and don't have the time to write whole new fics for. I hope you enjoy!

For Daniel's reference : See A/N at the bottom of each page for the "Doric-to-English" dictionary for that chapter ;)

…..

"Is that Teal'c's Jaffa symbol?"

Jack's voice rose above the sound of Daniel's rambling as he waved at the image on the screen. Pausing the Powerpoint presentation, Daniel pulled his glasses off and began wiping them on his t-shirt hem.

"Actually, no, it's a Pictish symbol of a serpent."

"_Pictish_?"

"Celtic tribes people from Europe."

Jack nodded slowly.

Teal'c tilted his head across the briefing room table towards Jack.

"Are you not a member of a Celtic tribe, O'Neill?"

Next to Jack, Sam coughed and hastily took a sip of lukewarm water from the half-full tumbler on the table in front of her, hiding her smirk behind the glass as she did so.

"_Top 'o' the mornin' to ya," _Jack drawled in a terrible approximation of an Irish brogue and rolled his eyes at Teal'c. "I'm 7th generation American, Teal'c, I'm about as Irish as Carter is Scandinavian!"

Sam turned to face him with a frown.

"What?" Jack responded to her look, "You're the stereotype of a Norse goddess… doesn't mean you're related to Greta Garbo!"

Sam's glass hit the table with a thump in the deafening silence. Daniel turned to regard Jack with a gleam in his eye and a smirk. Jack raised his eyebrows at his former team.

"What?!"

"I believe you just referred to Colonel Carter as a goddess," Teal'c supplied, clasping his hands together in front of his face, elbows propped on the shiny oak surface.

Jack's eyes flicked to Sam and back to Teal'c.

"No… I, uh, oh for cryin' …, you know what I meant!"

Teal'c's eyes gleamed.

"Indeed."

Sam regarded him with an amused gaze.

"Actually, Sir, my family name is English, technically speaking."

Daniel cleared his throat.

"Anyway, as I was saying, _wrong_ Celtic nation. The Picts, or more accurately, the Taexali, were from the Grampian region of Scotland. Not much is known about the individual tribes except a few engravings in the local stone. One in particular, of a serpent and a z-rod, is similar to the one found on P4C-282 by SG-9 last month." Daniel switched to the next slide. "As you can see from this photograph of granite unearthed just outside Aberdeen-"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Daniel. Scotland, Braveheart, something to do with snakes…"

Daniel frowned and crossed his arms.

"Actually Braveheart is set on the West Coast, Aberdeen is the North-East. Completely different ancestral heritage."

"Whatever. Look, Daniel, can you just get to the point sometime soon?" Jack snapped, still smarting from his accidental admission about Carter.

"Fine, Jack," Daniel retorted with a knowing smirk, "I think we've found something potentially interesting but I can't read the inscription on the tablet SG-9 brought back." Seeing Jack's eyes starting to glaze over, Daniel pulled out his ace. "The Picts have historical links to battles with the Vikings," At Jack's blank look, Daniel explained further, "The Vikings? Norse Gods? The Asgard?"

"Ah!" Jack said, realisation dawning.

"I called a friend in Scotland and, with your permission, I'd like to bring him in as an advisor. He's one of the few people on Earth who may be able to translate the tablet."

"Who is this friend?" Jack enquired.

"Dr Graeme Buchan. He's a lecturer in Archaeology at the University of Aberdeen. He's on a plane as we speak and due to arrive in Colorado Springs in a few hours. He was scheduled to speak at a conference in Honolulu next week but when I called him he decided to fly out a few days earlier and make a stop by the mountain on the way."

"Does it say 'General' anywhere on my uniform?" Jack groused, letting out an exaggerated sigh, "Would you mind at least giving me a heads up before you invite people to our _top secret _military base?!"

"Well, if you want to get this thing translated ASAP, then he's your guy."

Jack waved his hands dismissively.

"Fine, fine, when does he arrive?"

Just as Daniel pursed his lips to respond, Sgt Harriman entered the room.

"Sir, there's a visitor to see Dr Jackson at the front gate. A Dr Buchan?"

Jack turned to Daniel and glared.

"Very well, Sgt. Escort him to the briefing room. Usual drill."

"Yes, Sir. Full disclosure forms. I'll bring him down as soon as possible, Sir."

"Actually Sgt I think I'll go with you," Daniel added, placing the remote control for the projector on the table. "I should probably be there when you read him the Riot Act."

….


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour after heading up to greet his guest, Daniel returned to the briefing room. Behind him, a rather short man with broad shoulders and brown hair followed Daniel to the table. He appeared to be a similar age to Daniel. He headed straight for the General.

"General O'Neill, I assume? Fine to meet you," he said with a strong accent, extending his hand towards Jack. Jack stood and regarded him whilst returning the firm handshake.

"Likewise… Dr," Jack responded, "I just wish Dr Jackson had given us a bit more notice!" His gaze levelled at Daniel which he studiously ignored. Graeme smiled knowingly.

"Danny never was the most organised o' loons!"

Jack squinted and Daniel stepped forward.

"Uh, he means "guy" not a crazy person."

Teal'c stood.

"Is a loon not a winged creature, DanielJackson?"

"Yeah, it is, Teal'c. Sometimes English words have many different meanings."

Teal'c nodded and bowed his head.

"Dr Buchan it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Graeme copied the bow unfazed.

"Afa fine to meet you too, Mr…?"

"Ah, Teal'c. It's just Teal'c," supplied Daniel, impressed at his friend's lack of intimidation by Teal'c's imposing form.

"…Teal'c," Graeme finished. Turning to Sam, he grinned.

"Dr Carter?"

Sam started at the familiarity of his tone.

"Dr Cox telt me tae "pass along his regards"," He straightened up slightly, "an' he also telt me I was tae say ye still owe him that drink!"

Sam suddenly looked extremely amused.

"You work with Brian? I didn't realise he was teaching in Scotland."

Graeme chuckled.

"He disnae work wi' me jist noo, like. He's back doon in Manchester when he's nae in the States. Besides, teaching's a loose term fae fit he does, ken? Mare like chases the quines and picks up research grants between dates! I think he's o'er here this week actually."

Sam chuckled and held her hand out to him.

"That sounds like Brian! And, please, call me Sam."

As Sam began chatting animatedly with Dr Buchan, Jack silently glared at Graeme's back, nudged Daniel and lowered his pitch for Daniel's ears only.

"Is he speaking English?"

Daniel grinned.

"To a point. It's a Scottish dialect called Doric. It's exclusive to the North-East region of Scotland. I think that tablet is a variation of it but I'm not familiar enough with the written form to translate it myself."

"Ah!", Jack responded, nodding his head slowly. "Well, you might want to show him to the guest quarters. He may be here a while."

….

A/N: So here's a bit of translation although I hope most things are evident through context:

Afa: "awfully", as in "awfully nice to meet you" not "terrible"

Disnae: "Does not"

Doon: "Down"

Fae: "From"

Fit: "What"

Jist: "Just"

Ken: "You know/You understand?" not a person's name.

Loon: "Young guy"

Mare: "More"

Nae: "No"

Noo: "Now"

Quine: "Young woman"

Telt: "Told"


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel handed Graeme the tablet and he ran his fingers across the granite surface.

"So far's this fae again?"

Daniel ran a hand through his hair.

"I, uh, can't tell you. It's classified."

"Well, this thing looks afa new for something you reckon is over 300 years old!" he said with a disbelieving frown. "Did you dig it up?"

Daniel leant against the edge of his desk with his arms out straight, leaning and peering over Graeme's shoulder.

"No, it was in a… temple of sorts."

Graeme raised a sceptical eyebrow and nestled his glasses further down his nose. He held the tablet up to the light and it glistened purple.

"And you said this is made fae granite?"

Daniel nodded. Graeme put the tablet down and wagged a finger at him.

"I dinnae ken fit this is but I've lived in the Granite City all ma days and I ken fits granite and fits nae. This is nae granite in any form I've ever ken't it." At Daniel's abject silence, he continued. "Fair enough, ye nae gonna tell me the truth. Fine." He picked up a whiteboard marker and, leaning the tablet on its stand, he turned to face the large whiteboard just behind him. "I might nae be able t' ken exactly what it is, but I *can* tell ye fit it says," he finished with a sly grin.

Daniel stood up straight, an excited pitch to his voice.

"So it *is* Doric?"

Graeme continued scribbling on the whiteboard and pushed his glasses down his nose slightly to stare at Daniel over the top of them.

"It's some *form* of Doric, alreet. I'm just nae very sure the origin. Like maybe someone fae Shetland tried te copy it but it's nae quite right somehow." At Daniel's blank stare, he paused. "Put it anether way, it's like someone fae Brooklyn spekin' like a Texan. The general pattern is there and most o' the vocabulary is correct but it's nae just convincing enough to fool a native speaker. If ye ask me, I think it's been translated fae anether language. Like the Rosetta stone, ken?"

Daniel leant back against the desk and crossed his arms across his chest.

"So, what does it say?"

"It's an instruction manual." Graeme stated calmly as he finished his scribbles on the board. He looked back at the tablet and then back to the board and, satisfied that his translation was correct, he re-capped the marker pen and sat back down on Daniel's swivel chair. "It explains how if you press a button with a… swan… on it, followed by a chair, a pyramid-like thing and five other objects you'll reach something called … the Fifth Race?" Graeme shook his head. "Does this mean anything at aw to ye? Because if it wis nae you and we weren't *here*" He gestured around him to the base, "I'd swear it was a fake, like."

Daniel's eyes lost some of their shine and he suddenly bounced with pent-up energy.

"You're sure, Graeme? Absolutely certain?"

Graeme nodded his head firmly.

"Yup, as sure as I can be without ye tellin' me what the devil this is all aboot."

Daniel sighed dejectedly.

"Thanks, Graeme, you've been a huge help. At least we can now rule it out as the thing we were looking for."

Graeme smirked slyly.

"And fit, pray tell, *were* ye hopin' te find oot aboot?"

Daniel grinned.

"I cannae tell ya, laddie!," he mumbled in an awful mangled Glaswegian accent.

Graeme grimaced and then chuckled.

"Did anyone ever tell ye that your accents really need work? Dinnae ever say that to a Glaswegian unless you want a Glesga kiss!"

Daniel frowned.

"Do I *want* to know what that is?"

Graeme stood and patted Daniel jovially on the shoulder.

"Probably nae, probably nae!" He gestured to the door. "Now, did ye say that ye ken't the chef in this place? I'm famished and I wis hopin' I could have a blether wi' Sam. Mebbe we could aw' get a pint tomorrow night? I heard Brian might be in town and he's dying to pick her brain about some new idea o' his!"

Daniel laughed and he whispered conspiratorily.

"Well, if he's got his sights on more than that, between you and me, he's gonna have a fight on his hands!"

Graeme stopped dead and spun on his heel.

"You mean you and Sam…" He smirked, "Get in there! Brian never telt me just fit a fine lookin' quine she is! Beauty *and* brains? She's a fine catch, right enough."

Daniel gasped in horror.

"God, no!" At Graeme's surprise at such a vehement denial, he relaxed and re-phrased. "Sam is like a sister to me, I would never even…" He paused. "Nevermind. We can head to Cameron's Bar tomorrow night."

…

A/N:

Alreet: "Alright!"

Far: "Where"

Telt: "Told"

Wis: "Was"


	4. Chapter 4

"So, Carter, you and Dr Buchan have a friend in common?"

Sam's head whipped up from her notes to see Jack loitering at her office door, brushing imaginary lint off the door frame. He was backlit by the harsh corridor strip lights and in the relative dimness of her lamp-lit office she had to squint to make out his features. Placing her notes to one side, she smiled weakly and stood up.

"Sir!," she said warmly, "Come in." He regarded her momentarily and Sam's smile slipped just a fraction. She swallowed loudly. "Not that, er, you need *my* permission… Sir," she added as an afterthought, suddenly aware of how insubordinate that may have sounded. She just couldn't read him as well as she used to be able to and she found herself constantly second-guessing herself around him ever since Pete.

Jack frowned and waved his hand dismissively, confused at her sudden formality.

"Oh, pshaw, Carter! Your space, your rules. I know better than to step in the middle of something I shouldn't."

Sam tilted her head towards her left shoulder and regarded him with a confused expression. Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Damnit! How had he managed to make such an innocent comment into a gaping hole of a double-entendre that he'd walked right into? He cleared his throat loudly.

"So, uh, who is this Dr Cox guy?" He asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster. To his own ears he failed monumentally. It earned a ghost of a smile from Carter.

"Officially he was my post-Doc research assistant for a while when I was at the Pentagon," She filled in, "*Un-officially*, well, Sir, he kind of… kept me sane after the car crash that was Jonas. He was a good friend, Sir."

Jack turned his head and raised his eyebrows to his hairline.

"A good *friend*, you say?"

Sam chuckled at his accusatory tone.

"Not like *that*, Sir. He was a good sounding board. And he was the only one who could keep up with me at the bar, Sir."

At that, Jack coughed slightly and waved his hands in front of his face.

"Ah, yes, well, Daniel says he's in town apparently. Wants us all to go out for a drink. Thought you might… after, you know, P-, er, stuff. They're all heading out to Cameron's bar tomorrow night."

"*They*, Sir?"

Jack picked up a battery pack from Sam's desk and began turning it over in his hands.

"Well, I figured you kids wouldn't want me cramping your style."

Sam grinned.

"I think I speak for us all when I say that you're more than welcome, General." She stepped forward, gently tugged the battery pack from his grasp and placed it on the table just out of his reach. He almost-pouted and stuffed his hands in his pockets which made Sam snort. She quickly covered with a sniff. He began to make an excuse and Sam placed a hand on his bicep. He froze. "Please, Sir. Come out for a drink. Meet the guys properly."

He nodded and stepped back, coughing awkwardly to cover how much Sam's sudden proximity was affecting him in ways that he wouldn't admit to under torture.

"Ah, sure. If you insist."

She nodded.

"I do, Sir."

He met her gaze and balled his hands into fists. Damn, did she have to keep looking at him like that since Pete had left the picture? He only had so much control left, especially in the wake of Kerry's parting shot a few weeks ago and he'd rather go five rounds with Ba'al and his toys than even think of tarnishing Carter's perfect military record. God damnit, but something was gonna have to give. Soon. For the sake of his sanity. And, to make things worse, some hot-shot British genius had showed up and seemed intent on that drink she had apparently promised him. Great, Jack, just great. Another schmuck to beat you to the finish line!

Forcing his gaze away from those darkened blue orbs, he stared at the floor somewhere in front of his boots.

"Sure, Carter. Since you asked so nicely. I'll be there. Twenty-hundred at Cameron's."

Just as the silence began to stretch a little too far, he waved a hand at the door, mumbled something about reports and about-turned, leaving a slightly flustered Colonel in his wake. Once he was gone, she slumped and pursed her lips in a silent whistle. This holding pattern, or whatever the hell they were doing, whilst relieved that Pete was finally out of the picture, was starting to get incredibly frustrating.


	5. Chapter 5

At exactly 20:00 Jack opened the door of the bar and surveyed the bustling crowd. It wasn't packed and there were still a few tables left but it was by no means a slow night. That might end up working to his advantage if he had to make a strategic exit stage left. Why had he agreed to come along again? Oh yeah, because Sam had asked. He *really* needed to stop responding to that. He would start tomorrow, he decided. Yasureyabetcha.

Daniel spotted him first and waved him over to their booth at the back of the bar. Sam sat on a chair at the empty semicircle side of the large round table as Daniel, Teal'c and Graeme filled over half of the rounded leather bench on the opposite side. A band was setting up on the stage and in the meantime, generic 80's rock played from the jukebox. Jack approached the table and the guys greeted him with variations on his name. He responded with a mumbled greeting but it was Carter's greeting which surprised him the most. She nodded at him and beamed her megawatt smile at him, her eyes sparkling. But as soon as she had glanced up at him, her gaze drifted past him to someone approaching them from the stage. Jack turned to face the irritating stranger who had interrupted their moment.

"Sam!," the stranger enthused, "How's it going, gorgeous?"

Sam stood and stepped towards the guy. He was tall and lanky, with floppy black hair, skinny jeans, converse sneakers and a 70's band t-shirt topped off with a fitted brown leather zip-up jacket. He wrapped his slim arms around Sam in a tight hug which she returned with equal enthusiasm. When he let go, he ruffled her hair and grinned cheekily. Sam laughed.

"Brian!," She admonished, "Cheeky as ever, I see?"

Jack cleared his throat as Daniel watched on, making no effort to conceal his amusement at Jack's obvious discomfort.

"I'd like you to meet the guys. Brian, you already know Graeme. Daniel Jackson, Teal'c and General Jack O'Neill, meet Brian Cox."

Daniel and Teal'c offered pleasantries and Jack just nodded. Brian held out his hand to Jack.

"Wow, a General, eh? Gotta say you don't look old enough to be one of the starched shirt brigade, mate! It's great to finally meet the mysterious team that Sam tells me absolutely *nothing* about!" He nudged her in the ribs and she shushed him. "My round, what you all drinking?" He turned to Jack. "O'Neill, *tell* me that you drink real beer and not that watery crap most of you Americans love so much?"

Jack grinned conspiratorily.

"Since you're offering, I'll have a Guinness."

Brian slapped him jovially on the arm.

"Good man, good man!"

Jack leaned towards Brian slightly.

"It's Jack."

Brian beamed at the group.

"Fantastic! Daniel? Teal'c? What ya drinkin'? The lads and I are dying of thirst up there. Lugging all that stuff around is hard work. We aren't as young as we used to be!"

Jack stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You're with the band?" He asked, surprised.

"He's *in* the band!," Graeme supplied, "They had a couple o' hits a few years ago but it fizzled oot so now he's got his sights set on becoming the world's coolest Quantum Mechanics Prof *ever*," he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.

"Oh shut up, yer muppet!" Brian yelled at him over the music. "Come and give me a hand with the beer!"

Jack shuffled across to the seat next to Sam, sandwiching her between himself and Teal'c as Graeme stood to head to the bar.

"What is it with your friends and accents?" Jack muttered, gesturing at Daniel and Sam. Sam grinned.

"I dunno, it's kinda cute."

Jack snapped his head to face her.

"*Cute*? Isn't he a little old for cute?" Jack gestured in the direction of the bar, "He's gotta be, what, … thirty…five?"

Daniel snorted and nudged Teal'c. Apparently he'd already started on the beers.

Sam looked up at Jack from under her eyelashes and smiled shyly.

"Who said I was talking about Brian?"

"Graeme?! Seriously?" Jack sat back in his seat, shocked.

"Well, you know what they say about Scottish men, right?" Sam replied straightfaced.

"Ah, no actually, I don't," Jack retorted, "And I'm not sure I want to know, Carter!"

She leaned in a little closer as the volume of the music increased.

"The same thing they say about Irishmen. Sir." She said.

"Oh, for…, I'm *not* Iri-", Jack groused before noticing the almost imperceptible smirk on Sam's face.

Daniel cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Jack to move around the table towards him. Jack shrugged and leaned across the table.

Daniel grinned widely. Oh, for crying out loud, he was half way to drunk already.

"Uh, Jack, in case you hadn't noticed, Sam's former fiancé was Irish too. I don't think the fact that you're Irish is a problem!" He held up his hand to shield his mouth from Sam, "She's flirti-"

"DANIEL!" Jack yelled over the music, "So help me, if you finish that sentence I'll-"

"One pint of Guinness, as ordered!"

Jack looked up to see Graeme holding several bottles of beer and Brian juggling three pint glasses of Guinness. Plonking them down on the table, Brian took Jack's seat next to Sam and handed Jack his pint. If looks could kill Daniel would have been a pile of smoking cinders.

Brian held up his pint and clinked glasses with Daniel.

"Cheers!"

Jack forced himself to smile and nodded his thanks. And proceeded to sit for the next half an hour watching Sam talk animatedly to the lanky scientist while Graeme chatted to Daniel. Eventually, Graeme turned to look at Jack and turned back to speak to Daniel.

"Daniel, I'm sorry, but I hafta ask," he said, gesturing at Jack with his eyebrows, "Fit's the score wi' these two, eh? She's bin glancing o'er at him all night and, if we were nae in a bar, I think Brian would be oot cold by now!"

Daniel sighed loudly.

"Yeah, well, I *did* try to tell you to warn Brian." Daniel took another sip of his beer. "It's … complicated. Military rules yadda, yadda, yadda. To be honest, I wish Jack would tell them to f-"

Jack slammed his beer on the table causing everyone at the table to cease speaking and stare it him. Sam glanced over, concerned. He gestured to the bar.

"I'm… just gonna get another round." He said, suddenly aware that he was uncomfortably the centre of attention. Graeme hopped up out of his seat.

"Hey, Jack, how 'boot I give ye a hand?" He turned and winked at Daniel. "Be right back."

Jack nodded and headed off to the bar.

"So, Jack, I've git ta ask, how do ye do it?"

Jack regarded him cautiously.

"Sorry Graeme, I'm not sure I know what you're asking?"

He nudged his shoulder in Sam's direction across the room.

"Git th' attention o' a girl like Sam," he said non-plussed.

"I, uh, don't? What?"

Graeme crossed his arms across his chest.

"That quine over there cannae keep her eyes off you fae more then five minutes, ken?" Jack scoffed in protest but Graeme cut him off. "Naw, I'm serious, Jack." He leaned towards Jack slightly. "Ye dinnae think he hasnae tried it? Brian gave up on that a lang time since, like" Graeme said, gesturing towards Brian, "She's nae interested. And by the looks o' things, she only has eyes fae you, pal."

Jack bristled.

"A couple of weeks ago she was engaged to another guy," Jack offered, clearing his throat.

"Really?" Graeme asked, intrigued. "Well, that *is* interestin'. So am I tae assume that she isnae ony mare?" Jack nodded. "Dare I ask why?"

Jack stood up a little straighter.

"I… couldn't possibly say."

Graeme grinned and folded his arms across his chest.

"Ye dinnae wanna, ye dinnae ken or ye ken but ye will nae admit it?" Silence. "Come on, Jack, ye cannae say she disnae turn ye heed?"

Jack put a hand on Graeme's shoulder.

"Graeme, could you at least *try* to speak English sometimes? I'm having a really hard time following the conversation"

Graeme laughed.

"Ye ken fine well fit I'm sayin'."

Jack dropped his arm and shook his head.

"Carter's been my second since the day we met," he explained.

"Yer fit?" Graeme asked.

"My Second-in-Command," Jack elaborated. "And I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Graeme frowned.

"So? Fit's that got te dee wi' onything?" Jack made an 'and' gesture at Graeme, "Oh, military, right. I guess ye have rules against that sorta thing."

"Bingo!" Jack exclaimed. He nodded over at Sam. "Besides, her brain is far too important to the planet to lose her from this job. Trust me."

"How lang, like?"

Jack frowned, puzzled.

"How lang you been workin' together?"

Jack nodded.

"Ah! Uh, almost eight years," he said quietly.

"Eight years!?," Graeme exclaimed causing the guy next to him to turn his head momentarily, "By te Christ! That's… well, ye've git a patience I would nae have had, Jack!"

Graeme narrowed his eyes at Jack and waved at the bartender.

"Fitever you people de under that mountain I dinnae wanna ken but if ye want my opinion, like, you're a fool."

Jack turned to the bartender to order a round before answering.

"That seems to be the popular consensus lately," He acquiesced. Graeme raised a questioning eyebrow. "Nevermind, it's a long story." Jack added, unsure why he'd even brought up Kerry's words of advice. "Besides, I may be transferring soon," he confessed.

Graeme looked a little surprised.

"Well, that's nae gonna help!"

Jack shrugged.

"Actually, it may… remove a few obstacles." Jack winced. "My… team… doesn't know yet so I'd appreciate if-"

"If I didnae say onything?" Graeme interrupted, "Nae bother, pal, nae bother." He slapped Jack on the arm before picking up four pint glasses – never let it be said a Scotsman can't juggle his beers, "Hey, if this transfer means that ye finally get yer hole, get in there, son!"

Jack watched dumbfounded as Graeme walked away grinning to himself. He could have sworn that he had… had he really just…? Jack launched after him with the rest of the drinks in his hands.

"Hey!"

….

A/N:

Dee: "Do"

Hasnae: "Has not"

Isnae ony mare: "Is not any more"

Lang: "Long"

Nae: "No"

Quine: "Young woman"

And, finally, "To get yer hole"… well, use your imagination (Yes, it *is* what it sounds like and, yes, it is a phrase used here lol)


	6. Chapter 6

"I think I'm up," Brian sighed as he downed the dregs of his pint and rose to his feet. The sounds of electric guitars being tested resonated in the small space. "Sam, it's been fun. Stick around after the gig, yeah?" He noticed Jack raise an eyebrow across the table. "You guys too," he hastily added. "I owe you a few" he finished, raising his now empty glass.

Sam watched as he walked away, shaking her head, and turned back to the table. She noticed that Jack was studying the head of his Guinness intently and smiled gently. He was really quiet tonight and she suspected it had something to do with Brian. More than once she'd seen him glare in Brian's direction as she chatted with him before taking another big gulp of his pint and looking away. Decision made, Sam shifted seats closer to Jack.

"Room for one more on that bench, Sir?", she asked smiling sweetly at him. He shifted along slightly.

"Sure, Carter," he said in a surprised tone, "Better view of the band from this side, eh?" He added. Sam paused momentarily, although it was a toss-up as to whom was more surprised at how catty his response had sounded. That thought gave Sam a slight tingle before a memory of the last time he had responded that way re-surfaced. A certain elevator ride from hell the previous year. She shuddered at the memory. Never again.

"Cold, Carter?"

Sam mentally shook herself and sat down on the bench next to him, deliberately scooting closer so that her whole body from shoulder to thigh was pressed firmly into his side. She could feel the heat of his thighs through the denim and a smell of leather, clean soap and a hint of gun oil permeated her nostrils. Prada could go to hell, as far as she was concerned, *no* cologne could match the smell of Jack O'Neill for an aphrodisiac. Her cavewoman self had wasted no time in zeroing in on Jack's Alpha demeanour and she had to admit, even without her lowered inhibitions, the mere presence of Jack anywhere within spitting distance invoked an involuntary heightening of her senses.

He nudged her gently with his elbow when she didn't answer his question.

"You ok?"

Sam turned her head to face him, her nose inches from his. She smiled, a slow full Carter beam and held his gaze. She must have caught him off guard because a flicker of shock passed through the chocolate brown pools before they noticeably darkened, even in the dim bar light.

"Yasureyabetcha," she whispered into his ear, causing him to shift in his seat. She nodded at Graeme who was animatedly chatting to Daniel. "You two seem to be getting along well," she commented, "I'm … a little surprised."

Jack shrugged.

"Oh, you know, for a geek he ain't too bad," Jack paused and smirked, "just, ah, don't be too shocked by some of the things he says."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Such as?"

Jack coughed and looked down at his lap.

"Uh, let's just say there are some Scottish phrases I could have lived without hearing tonight."

Jack grabbed his beer, taking a large gulp and almost choking on it.

"Now, now, Jack, swallow properly!" a drunk Daniel waded in from the opposite side of the booth.

"I'll bet he's been the one issuing that order a time or two," Graeme commented dryly towards Daniel, causing Sam to snort her beer out of her nostril and Jack to turn ten shades of ruby.

"GRAEME!" Jack barked across the table, equal parts raging and embarrassed. Sam waved him off whilst she recovered from inhaling her pint.

"S'ok, Sir," Sam reassured, hastily wiping down her jeans with a Kleenex from her purse. Dropping the soggy mush of tissue into an empty pint glass, Sam stood and pointed towards the bar. "Anyone want another?"

Daniel raised his hand and giggled and Graeme gave a "thumbs up" sign. Jack rolled his eyes and rose from his seat.

"Let me help you with that, Carter."

And with that the two military officers left the table and headed into the crowd.

Daniel hiccupped.

"Fifty bucks says they'll be married by the end of the year," he slurred, slapping his palm on the table.

Graeme smiled slyly.

"Oh, Jackson, there's nae way in hell I'd tak that bet. A hundred quid says they will nae last the month!"

…

As the bar began to fill with a crowd, Sam weaved her way through the mass of standing people. Jack's hand found its way to the small of her back and Sam could feel the heat of his fingers through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. They reached the bar which was three-deep by this point in the evening. Jack hung back as Sam nudged her way forward, his hand still resting on her back. The barman nodded at Sam to the annoyance of the middle-aged guy next to her. Sam smiled too-brightly at him and his annoyed frown turned to a slightly lecherous smirk as he gave her a not-so-subtle once-over. He was about to say something when he noticed Jack's arm attached to Sam's shirt. He looked up at Jack just as the barman repeated Sam's order back to her loudly across the bar and the look he gave the leery older guy had him suddenly finding the beer menu the most fascinating thing since Playboy. He looked sideways to check that Sam hadn't seen his little stand-off and, convinced that she was still negotiating with the bar staff, smirked a little to himself. Sometimes his withering General stare had its uses, even if Carter would've kicked his butt had she seen that little possessive manoeuvre. Hell, she wasn't even his to be possessive of. Maybe he needed to do something about that sooner rather than later before anyone *else* decided to jump in.

Sam turned and handed him several beers, picked up the rest of the round and gestured in the direction of the table across the room. Jack nodded and encouraged her ahead of him. Just as she passed, he called her name softly. She paused, tilting her head inquisitively.

"I, uh, there's something I…", a little flustered he cleared his throat awkwardly and started again, "It's getting a little stuffy in here. Wanna get some air?" he finished as casually as he could. Sam frowned.

"Uh, sure, let me just grab my jacket," she responded both puzzled and slightly worried at his unusual request. As they reached the table, Sam handed Daniel his beer and reached for her leather jacket. He frowned at her.

"Gonna get some fresh air," she answered, gesturing to the door. Daniel eyed Jack as he reached for his own jacket and raised an eyebrow.

"Uh huh."

Sam fixed him with a glare.

"*Daniel*…" she growled. He held his hands up in surrender and smirked in Jack's direction. She turned to Graeme. "We'll be right back,"

Graeme leaned back in his seat and raised his pint.

"Tak your time, quine, tak your time!"

Sam led the way out of the bar, nodding to the doorman on the way out. Brian spotted them leaving and smirked, shaking his head. Would Sam never learn that her taste in men was questionable at best?


	7. Chapter 7

Jack meandered his way through the entering flocks of people with purpose. His firm stride and withering stare had the crowds clearing a path ahead of him, Carter following in his wake. Stepping out into the brisk chill of the Colorado Spring post-Winter breeze, Sam zipped her jacket up a little further and leaned against the railings just far enough to be out of earshot of the people milling by the door. Crossing her hands firmly across her chest, she threw him a concerned look and he responded with a puzzled frown.

"What's the matter, Sir?" She queried earnestly. If he'd insisted on speaking to her now, whatever the issue was, she figured it was fairly important. Jack dug the toe of his boot firmly into the gravel beneath it, making a soft crunching sound, gathering his thoughts and working up the nerve to say what he had to say. After a few moments, nothing inspiring had come to him so he figured, as with all potentially bad news, he might as well just spit it out.

"I'm transferring," he said bluntly. Sam's eyes widened in the dim yellow streetlight. "To D.C." At her questioning stare he continued. "Hammond is retiring and they need me to take his place." Sam's expression faltered for a microsecond before the military mask slipped into place and if he hadn't been scrutinising her face he would have missed the shock and subsequent sting his words had evoked.

"Congratulations, Sir," came her automatic response but the sentiment didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm happy for you-" she began before losing steam and halting mid-sentence, not quite trusting herself to finish it without her voice betraying her. Leaving?

Jack could feel her tense up at his words, her eyes shining with something he recognised in himself; disappointment. Ambiguous as it was, her reaction was enough to spur him on to start the conversation that he was so loathe to have yet so desperately needed to be said out loud. For both their sakes.

"I handed in my resignation but they wouldn't take it," he confessed wearily.

"You're resigning? What for?" She immediately responded. His mouth turned upwards at the corners at the familiar line. Sam obviously hadn't missed the ghost of smile that had flittered across his face so he clamped down on that memory and brought his focus back to the present. He took in a deep breath and slowly released it, his cheeks puffing as he did so. Now or never. Pinning her with his eyes, his carefully placed walls came crashing down as his brown eyes darkened with a heat that was directed solely towards her. Refusing to break eye contact with her, not even to blink, he saw the exact moment she realised what he was trying to tell her and the accompanying involuntary reflexive sharp intake of breath that gave her away. A slow flush was creeping up from her neck to her face but she held his gaze steady. "I'm sorry, Sam."

Just as he looked down at his boots, a smile flickered across her face. Sam cleared her throat awkwardly and he looked back up to a conspiratorial grin. It was the same one that, in the field, would have had him ducking for cover.

"General Hammond's position is Head of Homeworld Security, right?" She asked bluntly. He nodded in response, confusion written across his face. "So you are overseeing the SGC, the Alpha site and our ships, right?" He responded with the affirmative, still none the wiser as to where she was headed. "And not Groom Lake?" She added questioningly.

"Erm, not that I recall," he responded hesitantly. Sam smiled at him in relief.

"General Kerrigan requested that I would consider taking up the Head of R &amp; D position for a twelve month sabbatical last week. I've been mulling it over and it's looking more and more like an offer I should seriously consider."

Jack opened his mouth to protest but Sam cut him off.

"Ah!" He jumped slightly at her use of his expression, "I have several research projects ongoing right now that I have neither the time nor the resources to complete at the SGC. Taking a break from the field would give me the time and the staff I need to complete them. With the Goa'uld all but eradicated, I've been thinking that maybe it's time for me to take a step in a different direction and explore some avenues that haven't been available until now."

Despite her discussion of her pet projects, he detected a hint of something else in her tone.

"Oh, such as?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and holding in a breath and praying he hadn't mis-read her expression. Sam raked a hand through her hair.

"Something neither of us could discuss given our current ranks," she offered hesitantly with a hopeful spark in her eye. Jack's eyes lit up as she confirmed what he thought she'd been getting at. With a smirk, he stepped towards her, leant back against the railing and nudged her shoulder playfully with his.

"Less physics and more chemistry?"

Sam rolled her eyes at the terrible pun but returned his smile with a beaming one of her own.

"Something like that, yeah."

They stood staring at each other for several minutes, both enjoying the moment and the possibility that, finally, this indefinable something between them might have a chance to be test-driven. Eventually Jack cleared the frog in his throat and turned towards Sam with one hand bracing himself against the railing.

"So, is this the part where I ask you if you would like to go out for dinner sometime?" He asked lightly, his body perfectly still, waiting for her response. Sam looked up at him through her eyelashes, turning to face him.

"Actually, how about I cook?" She offered, surprising him. Jack stood up a little straighter.

"Aww, jeez, now I feel bad for not offering first," he replied. Sam laughed.

"Sir, I've seen your idea of cooking," she mocked as he pretended to be offended.

"I'll have you know, Carter, that my steaks are to die for!"

Sam shook her head.

"Oh is that what you call that charred hunk of meat you waved at me-" she halted abruptly and tensed up, realising she'd just brought up the dreadful day that they hadn't really discussed since. Jack schooled his expression as he noted the flush rising in her cheeks. "Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

Jack cut her off with a gentle hand on her arm and lowered his voice.

"S'ok. Listen, Carter, about that...," he paused and sucked in a breath, "I should have told you. I'm sorry. I, ah, panicked." He stared at his boots, ashamed of his admission, and chuckled reproachfully, bouncing a balled up fist on the railing. "Facing down a battalion of Jaffa, sure thing. Tortured by a snakehead, no problem," he winced before looking straight at her, "asking the woman I'm in love with not to marry another guy?" Another pause as he steadied his anger. "Jack O'Neill, biggest chicken shit in several galaxies."

Sam's self-conscious smile beamed in the lamplight.

"So, when's your transfer date?" She queried, ignoring his declaration for now.

"Two weeks, officially," he said softly, "then two weeks to get packed up and relocated before I start the new job."

Sam smiled.

"Need someone to give you the guided tour?" Sam asked chirpily to which Jack responded with a frown. "D.C. was my old stomping ground before the SGC." She smirked at him, "or had you forgotten?"

"Oh, how could I forget, Captain "just because my reproductive organs are on the inside doesn't mean I can't handle whatever you can"", he threw back at her causing Sam to wince.

"God, I can't believe I actually said that to you!" A pink hue crept up her neck and Jack laughed at her obvious embarrassment.

"Well you certainly got my attention," he confessed, leaning forward and whispering conspiratorially in her ear "even if I did think you were the hottest geek I'd ever met."

Sam blushed deeper at both his words and his tone.

"Honestly? I thought you were a bit of an ass," she said wryly, earning her a shocked stare, "but I guess you weren't so bad after all." She nudged his arm earning her a grin.

"Well, you do have to be wrong sometimes, ya know!"

Sam shook her head and folded her arms.

"So, how do you feel about dinner at my place a week next Friday?"

Jack positively beamed.

"I'll bring beers," he offered, "and dessert."

Sam pushed herself away from the railing and headed towards the door, turning to respond with a raised eyebrow and an appraising stare that made Jack stop in his tracks.

"How about a few bottles of Guinness and yourself then?"


	8. Chapter 8

Jack slid into the seat at the end of the table with what he hoped was a neutral expression. Judging by the shit-eating grins that were plastered across Daniel and Graeme's faces, he wasn't doing a very good job.

Graeme's gaze flicked towards the bathroom where he'd just seen Sam retreat to.

"So, how'd it go?"

Jack raised his eyebrows a little too high.

"I have no idea what you're talking about..." he tailed off, taking a sip of his now warm stout.

"Aye, right, and I'm the Queen o' Sheba!" Graeme chuckled. "So am I tae assume I wis right, eh?"

Daniel waved his beer towards Jack.

"I've had to watch these two dance around each other for _years,"_ he slurred, "Jack, tell me that you're finally gonna get off your butt and ask her to marry you _before_ you high-tail it to D.C.?"

Jack glared at Graeme who held up his hands.

"Wisnae me! Scout's honour!"

Daniel frowned at Jack.

"I may be three sheets to the wind right now, but I'm not stupid. Hammond's retiring, I wondered how long it would take them to order you to Washington to take his place." He smirked teasingly and raised his glass, "Thanks for telling us by the way!"

"Daniel, nothing was-"

Daniel turned to Graeme, grinned, and turned back to interrupt Jack's protests.

"I'm just.. pulling your pisser...?" Nodding to Graeme, "Did I get that right?"

Graeme chuckled and nodded.

"Aye, loon, that you did!"

Jack rolled his eyes.

"I swear to God, Graeme, if he suddenly starts coming out with all of this stuff in briefings, I'm coming to find you..."

Sam slid into the seat next to Jack and took a swig of her beer.

"So, what did I miss?"

Jack rolled his eyes and waved his hand at the pair.

"Just educatin' the loon here on the finer points of Scottish vocabulary," Graeme supplied.

Sam grinned.

"So basically Scottish swear words and sexual innuendo?" At the guys' surprised faces she tilted her beer at them casually, "I've been in the biggest boys' club in the world for the past 18 years and yet you all _still_ think I don't know how you guys bond over beer, sports and women?"

Jack pouted whilst Graeme shot her a knowing look.

"Hey, I'm not just about the sex, drugs and rock and roll, you know! I have layers." The three members of SG-1 shared a knowing smirk over his reference to Hathor.

"Yes, Sir," Sam responded as if speaking to a child, "I'm well-aware of your refined tastes in opera, Monty Python and 'The Simpsons'."

Jack opened his mouth and promptly shut it.

"How do you know about my secret Monty Python collection?"

Sam smirked.

"Next time I'm setting up your telescope you might want to sing something a little less inappropriate at me!"

Jack frowned.

"Carter, I don't recall ever singing anything at _you...oh."_ Jack cast his eyes downwards and began picking at the remnants of a beer label on the table. "It wasn't _at_ you so much as in your approximate location...what? It's a catchy tune!"

Sam quirked an eyebrow at him and Daniel sat up a little straighter in his seat.

"What did I miss?"

Graeme looked between the two and began laughing.

"Well, I'm guessing Jack here asked Sam to sit on his face!" He said, taking a swig of beer.

Jack scrubbed his hands over his face in resignation and Daniel looked slightly traumatised.

"Excuse me?!"

"It's a British comedy song," Graeme explained, "but I'm quite impressed that you Americans know it!"

Jack turned to Sam.

"That's a very good point, Carter. How the hell do you know that song?"

"My father was a Python fan, Sir," she explained with a smirk. "He was stationed in Germany once on an RAF base. Apparently it's a national institution that he was initiated with by their aerial demonstration squadron."

"Huh, I'd never ken't that the Red Arrows were Monty Python fans, like," Graeme commented. "I take ma niece and nephew to watch them in the air show at Leuchars every Summer."

"The Red Who?" Daniel asked, confused.

"The British Royal Air Force's version of the Thunderbirds," Jack explained to a blank look from Daniel. "You don't even know who they are, do ya, Danny?" He turned exasperatedly towards Sam and shook his head disbelievingly. "He's only been working for the Air Force for 8 years!..."

"They're the guys who do the acrobatic displays at public events, Daniel," Sam explained. "I was invited to try out but then I got drafted to the SGC."

Graeme regarded her with a newly appraising eye and Jack abruptly turned to face her.

"How did I _not_ know that?" He demanded, his face registering surprise at her announcement. "So all this time you've been letting me do the flying..."

Sam shrugged nonchalantly.

"You outrank me, Sir, it was improper to question it."

Daniel's eyes went wide in understanding.

"Ah, so that's what that sp-uh, race was about with Warrick?"

Sam grinned conspiratorially.

"Well, Carter, I promise that next time the chair is all yours!" Jack announced with a grin.

"Want me to take you for a test flight, General?" She quipped with a raised eyebrow. Jack's grin faded. Damn it, he'd walked right into that one! Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively he leant back in his seat, his eyes shining.

"I wouldn't mind taking that little Indian you have out for a spin," he responded, downing the rest of his pint, "Wanna swap for a day?"

It was Sam's turn to be shocked.

"I... didn't know you owned a bike, Sir?"

"Why do you think I own so many leather jackets?" He responded with a wink and standing up. "Another round?"

Brian appeared through the crowd on the dance floor.

"Nah, mate, I owe you a pint," he responded before anyone could answer. He turned to face the table. "Same again?"

A chorus of yesses went round the table as Jack held up a hand, forgetting who he was surrounded by.

"And a soda for our resident geek, he's already surpassed his limit!" At several bemused glares he backtracked. "Teal'c and I are the only ones at this table without a PhD, aren't we?" Sam nodded a little too smugly. "Aw, hell, you know what I meant!" To Brian, "Lead on, good Sir... to the bar!"

Brian chuckled.

"He's nae a knight just yet!" Graeme threw at him as Brian gave him the "V" sign with his backward-facing index and middle fingers.

"That's British for 'the Birdie', Jack!" Daniel explained to rolling eyes.

"Yeah, I got that," Jack responded sarcastically as the PhD's regarded the pair with amusement. He threw his right hand towards Daniel, Palm down with the middle finger extended, drew his arm back in and repeated the gesture with both arms before looking smug and heading for the bar. Daniel shook his head.

"Dare I ask?" Sam quipped.

Daniel wiggled his eyebrows.

"I believe the correct translation was 'fuck you and fuck the lot of ya!" He yelled at Jack's back, "And that's _Australian_ sign language, wrong island!"


	9. Chapter 9

"So, Jack, you're the mystery guy, eh mate?" Brian stated as the barman turned away to retrieve the order. Jack decided to play dumb.

"Brian, I'm not sure what you mean," he said flatly. Even in his own head he wasn't buying it. Brian chuckled.

"Come on, Jack, I'm not blind. She's been staring at you all night the way I tried to get 'er to look at me for the first few years I knew her," at Jack's frown he added, "Don't worry I gave up on Sam a long time ago, we're firmly in the friend zone." He chuckled, "Besides, you may have noticed she's a bit of a man-eater!"

Jack turned to him and smirked.

"'Man Eater', you say? Care to elaborate on that?"

Brian shrugged his eyebrows at Jack and waved a hand in Sam's direction across the room.

"Well, let's just say that she and I had a nice little earner going in DC at the local bars with the guys who played pool. They got pulled in by the baby blues and killer curves and, well, all they got for their troubles was an ego thrashing and an empty wallet!"

Jack smiled in Sam's direction.

"I can believe that, I've lost count of the people who've underestimated Carter to their detriment. She's definitely one of a kind."

"Jack, I've gotta ask, what's the 'Carter' thing about? Usually when I'm dating a girl I use their first name!"

Jack coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Ah, we're not."

Brian frowned.

"Eh? Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but why the hell not? She clearly fancies the pants off you!"

Jack scoffed at Brian's enthusiastic declaration.

"She's still my 2IC," he explained, "we've been serving together for years. It's against the regs."

"You're kidding?" Brian asked incredulously, "You not interested at all?" He grinned cheekily. "So, you wouldn't mind if I set her up with my friend?"

If looks could kill then Brian would have been a dead man.

He smirked at Jack.

"Yep, thought so. Seriously, what you waitin' for? Can you not transfer or something?"

Jack picked up his pint and took a gulp.

"Two weeks."

"Does she know?" Brian enquired.

"You're pretty nosey for a guy who isn't interested," Jack commented.

"She's a good friend," Brian countered, "And given 'er track record with you military lot I'm just lookin' out fer 'er."

Jack placed his pint back onto the bar.

"Ah, yes. Hansen."

Brian folded his hands across his chest.

"I take it you met that dickhead?"

Jack almost chuckled.

"Yeah, he worked with us for a while after Carter moved to Colorado Springs."

"I honestly don't know what she saw in him," Brian spat, "He treated her like shit and she kept going back to him every time. It took her catching him in bed with another woman for her to finally see sense." Brian took in Jack's angry expression. "What happened to 'im anyway?"

Jack's eyes turned dark.

"He, uh, was killed on an op. He went nuts and tried to kill Carter and another member of my team."

"I bet she was pretty shocked. Can't say I'm sorry though if I'm honest. Not after what he put Sam through. She really went through the ringer with him. I was there when she was picking up the pieces, it wasn't pretty." Brian straightened up. "I'm sure you could kill me in a variety of ways but if you hurt her..." He left the threat hanging. Jack had to admire his effort, futile as it was.

"Hurting Carter's the last thing I ever intend on doing," Jack almost whispered, "She's too important."

Brian studied Jack's face. The man had an almost inscrutable poker face but his eyes gave him away. Brian grinned.

"So, uh, how long ya been in love with her then?"

"Longer than I'd care to admit and longer than I should," he confessed wearily.

Brian nodded in acknowledgement.

"And how long's she been in love with you?"

Jack shuffled uncomfortably.

"I'm not sure how Carter feels."

Brian laughed at that.

"Yeah, right, and I'm the Pope." After a few moments of Jack's silence, he changed tactics. "OK, so how long did it take for her to say yes when you asked her on a date?" At Jack's questioning stare he continued. "I saw you two head outside and her face when you came back inside. Something happened. And it wasn't anything more because you're still here."

Jack was about to ask what he meant by that but Brian beat him to it with a suggestive grin.

"I know what happens when Sam picks up guys. If you'd done more than just talk, you'd be in her house by now." He chuckled, "She doesn't hang around, that one. No one turns down Sam Carter."

Jack inwardly smiled as he recalled the time she'd attacked him in the locker room thinking that he had. But then she hadn't really been in any state to consent and he'd been honest when he'd said he hadn't wanted her like that.

''You should ask her to dance," Brian offered, "She loves dancing. Between you and me she's amazing. I'm guessing a guy your age can waltz?"

Jack didn't even bother to protest about the age comment in his surprise at this little tidbit about his soon to be former 2IC.

"Yeah, bet you didn't know she could dance, eh? She took lessons after Jonas. Said there was something freeing about having something different that wasn't about shooting things or speeding." He motioned to his band. "Next set get her on the dancefloor. I promise, you won't regret it."

Brian picked up the beers and headed for the table. It was getting late and most of the younger crowd had dispersed, leaving the remaining 35-plus patrons quietly nursing their drinks at tables scattered around the bar. Two couples remained on the dancefloor as more mellow background music played from a jukebox by the stage.

Jack returned to his seat.

% % % %

Just as the band began to play again, the guys were chatting quietly amongst themselves and Jack took the opportunity to steal Sam away for a few moments. He cleared his throat.

"Carter, wanna dance?" he asked quietly. Sam sat up straighter, surprised by his sudden request. A slow smile crept across her features.

"I'd love to."

Jack held out his hand and led Sam towards the sparsely occupied dancefloor. Brian spotted Jack from the stage. As the current song ended, he turned to speak to his band who nodded at whatever he'd just said. He turned back the microphone.

"This next track belongs to a friend of mine. He wrote it for his last album but it didn't make the cut." He nodded his head at Jack. "Hope you enjoy it."

A slow lilting beat began in waltz timing as the guitar melody floated over the top. To Sam's surprise, instead of placing his hands on her waist, Jack gently wrapped his fingers around her right hand and lifted it before placing a hand under her left arm and lifting it into a classical waltz position. He held her gaze as he rose slightly off his heels and began subtly applying pressure to Sam's open hand in time to the beat. Sam sucked in a sharp breath as he held her gaze and instinctively she rose onto the balls of her feet, waiting for the correct beat. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3, step.

Sam followed Jack's lead as he guided her across the floor in the three-step waltz. Her feet responded to every minute change of pressure on her hands as Jack led her, turning her every few steps and her hand finding its place back with Jack's. Given how seamlessly they worked together in the field, Sam shouldn't have been surprise that their movements gliding across the dancefloor had the same effortless grace but she'd been unprepared for this change in tactics. He was flawless in his lead and Sam realised that, given his age, he'd probably learned to dance like this as a young boy.

Very few people knew of her weakness for being led around a dancefloor by a man who knew how to lead. For her generation it had been much of a lost art and, given her occupation it was the last thing anyone thought of when deciphering her tastes. Holy Hannah, Jack was good. Her skin tingled where Jack's fingers came into contact with her body and she could feel the rush of desire coursing through her veins as her body and mind made the correlation between how their movements, heady and seamless, could be so easily translated to a more intimate setting.

She hadn't remembered wanting a man, this man, so badly in a very long time.

As the song drew to a close, Jack stared at Sam as the heat in her gaze flared when her eyes had met his and he became tantalisingly aware of something he'd rather not know at this precise moment. She was incredibly turned on. Sure, he'd set out to surprise her, but he hadn't counted on seducing her tonight. Not when the regs were so close to being out of their way for good. As the music changed, he took a tiny step towards her and brushed his thumb along her cheek. Leaning into her ear, he lowered his voice for her ears only.

"Friday, Sam. I promise."

As they made their way back to the table, hand in hand, Daniel stared in shock as he watched Brian offer Jack a mock salute and Jack's answering subtle nod of thanks.

"Fit did I tell ye, Danny? She's got him wrapped roond her wee finger."

Daniel groaned loudly to Graeme as Sam and Jack returned to their seats at the table.

"I think I'm gonna be in therapy for a while after witnessing... that!" Daniel lowered his voice to a whisper. "Can I just pretend that all she wants to do is hold his hand?"

Graeme chuckled.

"Didn't ye say you guys were all off tae his cabin next week? Word of advice, buddy, I'd stock up on ear plugs if I were you, otherwise I get a feeling you're nae gonna get much sleep, like!"

Daniel stuck his fingers in his ears.

"Puppies, kittens, fluffy bunnies!"

It was going to be a loooong week!


	10. Chapter 10

Jack walked slowly down the corridor towards Sam's lab, box in hand. His nameplate stuck up above the rim of the box along with a couple of picture frames holding his certificates. As of now, General Hammond's office now belonged to Landry. He slowed his pace to a crawl as he approached the door and stood watching Sam as she tinkered with a doohickey, oblivious to his silent observation. His brain was still having trouble believing that they were actually going on a date that evening. Not a friend date but a bona fide romantic date with candles and fine linen and flowers.

% % % %

Sam needed something to take her mind off of her impending plans for the evening. She grabbed a spanner with her slightly shaking hand and frowned in mild disgust at the offending trembling appendage. Damn it, she was 35, not 15! Give her a P-90 and she was good to go, put her on a date and she felt like crawling out of her skin. Something about the artificiality of etiquette and pretty dresses, make up and heels put her far outside her comfort zone. Maybe she shouldn't bother with a dress and impractical shoes. She chuckled to herself as she pictured Jack's face if she opened the door to him wearing nothing but underwear and her combat boots. She wasn't entirely sure he'd mind to be honest!

"Something funny, Carter?" A familiar voice asked from across her lab. Sam jumped slightly and looked up to find the object of her musings smirking at her and holding a box. From the contents, she guessed he'd finished clearing his office and was about to head home. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, she shook her head.

"Nothing interesting Sir," she replied, avoiding his eyes. Huh. The slight reddening of her cheeks piqued Jack's interest - so not nothing then, just something she had trouble confessing to him. Ah, well, he'd maybe find out later. Right now he had more pressing matters to attend to. He placed the box down on her lab bench.

"Ah! It's ... 17:03, I'm officially transferred. Which means I'm no longer 'Sir'." He motioned for her to follow his lead but she just tilted her head and gave him a questioning glance. "You do remember I have a name, right? Begins with 'J'?" His mouth turned up slightly at the edges at his last comment. "Because tonight's gonna be interesting if you don't."

Sam responded with an indulgent smile and raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, Jack, we still on for nineteen-hundred? My place?" She asked. He smiled at her, his eyes sparkling in the dimmed light of her lab.

"Yasureyabetcha!" He reached for the box again. "Speaking of which, shouldn't you be leaving?"

She stood up, keys in hand and reached for her leather jacket.

"I was just leaving. I need to stop by the store on my way home."

Jack tilted his head.

"You sure you don't want to go out someplace? My offer still stands if you'd rather not cook?"

Sam's eyes darted to the corridor behind Jack and, assured it was empty, she briefly glanced at her desk and then back up to his eyes, holding his gaze.

"I'm pretty certain," she said quietly, stepping around the bench and stopping just inches from him. "I don't think many restaurants would be comfortable with what I had in mind."

The box in Jack's hand momentarily slipped from his grasp and it was only Sam's lightening reflexes that stopped it from crashing to the floor and spilling its contents. Jack leaned towards her then forced himself to take a step backwards.

"Oooh-kay!" He exclaimed, sucking in a deep breath. "I need to go. I have a date with a gorgeous blonde to get ready for."

"See you in a few hours." Sam said softly, also taking a step back.

He turned back as he reached the door and grinned at her before leaving. Sam spun on her heels and her answering smile could've powered the Gate.

% % % %

At precisely nineteen hundred, Sam's doorbell rang. She set aside her oven mitts and turned off the oven. Opening the door she found Jack O'Neill on her doorstep, a bag containing clinking beer bottles in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. He opened his mouth to say hi but no sound came out.

Sam was wearing a knee-length black pencil dress with a low v neckline and a pair of dangling gold earrings. Her smoky eyeliner accentuated her sparkling blue eyes and they lit up as she gave him a dazzling smile.

Turning to the side and motioning for him to come in, she took the flowers and beer from him and inhaled the scent of the flowers before placing them on her side table.

"These are beautiful, thank you." She said softly, taking a step towards him.

Jack's hand lightly caressed her shoulder.

"You are stunning," he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips against her cheek in greeting. As he pulled back, Sam leant forward and pressed her lips to his. He tasted like mint and coffee and something undefinable yet purely Jack. He responded tentatively at first until her hand reached up to his neck to pull him closer and she ran her tongue along his lips. His arm snaked around her back as he held her firmly against him as he deepened the kiss. His hand reached up to caress her cheek and he slowly brushed his lips and tongue against hers, happy that she seemed as content to enjoy this easy exploration of until-recently forbidden territory as he was.

Several minutes later, Sam reluctantly pulled back and Jack beamed brightly at her.

"Well, that was a hell of a greeting," he said between breaths, his chest still slightly heaving.

"It's odd," Sam said, causing Jack's smile to fade, "I feel like I should be feeling like we just broke every reg in the book right now."

Jack rubbed his thumb across her shoulder.

"And how do you feel?" He countered and held his breath for an answer.

Sam smiled naughtily

"Like... I want to skip dinner," she answered honestly. Jack raised an eyebrow

"What did you make?"

"Nothing that won't keep," she responded breathily before pulling his lips towards her once more.

"If you're sure?" He asked softly. Sam nodded and ran a hand up his chest in response. Jack smirked. "Well, in that case..." he added as he spun them one-eighty and gently sandwiched her between the front door and his body, his face hovering millimeters above hers. He leaned in slightly tilting his head and then pulled back just as she leaned in. He was teasing her and she knew he knew she'd realised what he was doing by his lazy smile. Sam ran her hands up his chest and neck and into his hair, gently massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes as his scalp tingled under her fingers. Opening his eyes after a few moments, he leaned into her left ear and dropped his voice to a husky whisper.

"I thought I was the one who was supposed to be seducing you, Samantha?"

Sam shuddered at her whispered name in his ear and grinned.

"Nice try, Jack, but two can play at that game," she stated firmly, sliding a heel around his ankle and slowly tracing an invisible line up the back of his calf until she reached the back of his knee and applied a small amount of pressure. It didn't take much for his knee to buckle as he stumbled forward into her so that they were pressed together from shoulder to hip with his left leg sandwiched between hers. She lifted her thigh to wrap it around his hip, pulling him into her and pulled his lips to hers for another searing kiss. She felt rather than saw his response to her pressing her hips into his as he swallowed a groan. Christ, if he'd known this was what was waiting for him, he'd have had his resignation letter on Hammond's desk year ago. Pulling away from her lips, he pressed gentle kisses along her exposed neck from collarbone to jaw before reaching up to remove her earring and tossing it aside as he took her earlobe between his teeth and ran his tongue along its curved edge. Sam shuddered in response and breathily opened her mouth to speak.

"Bedroom. Now.," she demanded quietly, "Before I decide to really screw up your knees and have you up against my front door!"

Jack responded with a smug grin and a mock salute.

"Yes Ma'am!"


	11. Chapter 11

A/N: This chapter is pretty much involves Sam, Jack, some walls and a bed. If that ain't your thing, feel free to use your imagination and skip it.

Consider yourself so warned!

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Sam grabbed Jack's hand, pushed herself off the door with her foot and yanked him in the direction of the bedroom. Halfway down the hallway, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, spun her to face him and pinned her to the wall with his chest, one palm flat against the wall over her head. He pressed his lips to hers as his free hand traced the curve of her hip above the fabric of her dress.

"Jack..." she said in a warning tone. He pulled away slightly to rest his forehead against hers.

"I'm sorry, just... that dress, your curves..." he closed his eyes for a second, catching his breath. "It's not just that either, I... for crying out loud, I..." Sensing that Jack was having trouble, Sam reached up and ran her fingers through his spiky fringe making it stick up at even crazier angles.

"What's wrong?" she asked him, her face full of concern.

Jack bowed his head and then looked straight into her eyes.

"You know I love you, right?" He waved a hand at her. "I mean this is, wow, seriously, but you're so, so much more..." he trailed off.

Sam cupped his face with her hands and smiled reassuringly at him.

"Yeah I think I got that," she said with a hint of amusement.

Jack placed a hand on the back of his neck and dropped his chin to the floor.

"Sorry, I kind of killed the mood there," he said self-deprecatingly.

"Yes, because most women find men telling them they're in love with them such a passion killer!" Sam answered with a tilted eyebrow and a level of sarcasm worthy of Jack himself. His head shot up to meet her twinkling gaze. She placed two fingers across his lips to silence him.

"Before you can interrupt me again," she added, "just for the record, I feel the same way. There were so many times I wished... but it never made me love you any less."

Jack grinned.

"Got you with my sparkling wit, did I?" He said smugly, making Sam laugh and lean forward to bury her head in his chest. She lifted her head to look at him when the giggles subsided.

"Well, that and your impressive sidearm," she said with a wink and off his confused face added "Antarctica".

"Ah!", he responded.

"Speaking of..." she replied mischievously, pressing her chest against his and sliding a hand across the unusually taught fabric of his trousers and making him jump. "Mind if we continue this conversation with fewer layers?"

Jack grinned.

"And that, right there, is one of the many reasons I love you!" he exclaimed as she frowned in confusion. "The lady knows how to apply correct grammar," he explained.

Sam held up a hand in a stop motion.

"Wait a minute, grammar is a turn-on for you?"

Jack looked a little sheepish at having admitted that.

"So that's why you're always correcting people? Because it annoys you?"

Jack blushed slightly and tried to change the subject.

"So... you were saying something about getting you out of that dress? Because I'll gladly help with your zipper..."

Sam stepped away from him towards her bedroom when Jack reached for her and spun her to face him, gripping her hands in a perfect ballroom pose in a single smooth motion. He began humming a gentle tune in her ear and swayed Sam from side to side in his arms. She nuzzled closer to him and breathed in his scent. After a few seconds she began quietly humming along with him. Feeling the vibrations on his neck, he pulled back and looked at her.

"Whatcha doin'?" He asked softly and Sam grinned at him in response.

"Humming."

Jack's eyes darkened as he closed the distance between them, lifting Sam's chin and crushing his lips to hers, his tongue searching for hers, stroking, tasting, claiming her. A shocked gasp was lost in his lips as she responded just as fervently to his touch. Her hands grabbed his shirt and untucked it from his waistband, finally coming into contact with warm skin. Jack reluctantly pulled away, both gasping for breath. Sam took his hand and stepped backwards, leading him down the hallway. Pulling him closer, she stared into his eyes to find a jumble of heat, love and... hurt? Sam paused at the threshold, trying to work out why- oh! Ducking her head, she looked up into his silently questioning gaze.

"You've been waiting to do that ever since the elevator." It was a statement rather than a question.

The way Jack looked away from her and over her shoulder gave her her answer.

"I'm sorry, Jack-" she began but he silenced her with a finger across her lips.

"No apologies," he stated firmly. "I... just wanted you to be happy, Sam. And if it couldn't be me then I'm just happy someone did." Jack smiled slyly, "Doesn't mean I wasn't jealous enough to not want to press you up against that wall and make you forget about him though."

Sam sighed, guilt washing over her, and closed her eyes.

"He was a nice guy but his biggest problem was that he would never be..." she trailed off, her shoulders stiffening and her fingers suddenly reaching to pull down invisible shirt cuffs awkwardly at what she'd almost confessed.

Jack donned what could only be categorised as a smug bastard smirk and his eyes twinkled.

"... a certain sarcastic, amazingly brilliant General?"

Sam bit her lip self-consciously.

"You missed 'hot'," she added with an eyebrow twitch and a slow smile.

"Hot, you say? Hmm... tell me more, he sounds like quite a guy..."

Sam grabbed his shirt collar and led him backwards until her legs hit the bed.

"Uh huh," she hummed, her fingers deftly working on unfastening the buttons on his shirt as he kissed his way down her neck. Sam shuddered and she could feel Jack's lips form a smile. Once divested of his shirt, she began swiftly working on his belt and top button. Jack felt for the zipper on her dress and gently tugged it down. Sam shrugged the dress loose and it fell from her shoulders, pooling at her feet. Jack sucked in a sharp breath as his gaze dropped from her shoulder along the length of her body and down those legs that went on forever. Her only remaining clothing was a scrap of black lace and a pair of three inch strappy sandals. She continued to remove Jack's pants with a few swift movements until he was kicking off his shoes, pulling off his socks and standing in front of her wearing only a pair of black boxer shorts. She hooked a finger under the waistband, leaned back across the bed and pulled him down so that he was straddling her.

"God, Sam, you're perfect..." he mumbled as he lowered his lips to her breasts, nibbling and sucking until she gasped for breath. His kisses trailed down her abdomen until he reached the tiny piece of lace. He gently tugged at the ribbons each side and the lace fell away. He balled it up in his hands and noted with smugness that it was soaked before throwing it over his shoulder. Sam looked up at him as he lifted himself above her to capture her lips.

"You not going to remove my shoes?" She enquired. He grinned.

"Nope!"

She smirked at him before meeting his lips halfway. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she hooked her ankles together and pulled him down towards her, pressing herself into the soft cotton of his boxers. She groaned into his mouth and began tugging his boxers down over his hips. He lifted himself off her just long enough to remove the offending shorts and she flung them onto the floor. Using his precarious balancing on his arms and feet to her advantage, Sam gripped him harder with her thighs and flipped them over so that she was now leaning over him, a sandal-clad foot each side of his knees. His head hit the mattress and he drew in a sharp breath in surprise.

"My turn," she stated firmly before trailing kisses along his collarbone and tracing a finger along the lines of his abs and gently stroking him, swallowing his gasp with her lips on his and stroking his tongue with hers. She slowly lowered herself down onto him, letting out a low whimper which was almost drowned out by Jack's corresponding growl of approval. He rolled them over until he was nestled between her thighs propped up on his elbows to avoid squashing her. Sam thrust up to meet him as he agonisingly slowly thrust into her. She wrapped her arms around his back and pulled him down until his entire weight was on top of her chest then arched her back like a cat, her breasts crushed against his firm chest. His tongue ran along the roof of her mouth, his mouth imitating the ebb and flow of pressure on her hips. Beads of sweat began to form along her collarbone and Jack's tongue lapped them up as she licked her way along the taught tendon in his neck. They moved together in silence save for the occasional gasp or moan of pleasure and Jack could feel slight panic rising in his chest at just how much this woman had wormed her way into his heart. Sam felt the rush of adrenaline and caught a brief glimpse of fear in his eyes. She slowed her hips and reached up between them to touch his cheek.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concerned she'd done something wrong. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts.

"It's nothing," he replied tensely. Sam froze.

"Jack, please..." she pleaded. "Tell me."

"I... it's nothing."

Sam gave him a soft 'spit it' glare. Closing his eyes and pinching his nose, he swallowed loudly.

"I don't want to lose you," he confessed almost in a whisper. "It was close there for a moment."

Sam smiled warmly at him.

"I'm here, Jack," she reassured him, "I'm here."

He buried his head in her chest as she pulled him down, gently holding him to her and placing light kisses on the top of his head. She'd never seen this side of Jack before, the unsure and fragile side that he buried deep beneath an armour of humour and indifference. The side that Daniel had once spoken to her about when she'd asked him about that first trip to Abydos.

She tilted his chin up to meet her eyes and firmly kissed him, slowly grinding her hips against his as they resumed their previous rhythm. He trailed a hand down her side from her ribs to her hips and squeezed the soft flesh under his hand. Sam gasped and grabbed a handful of muscles in his back as her fingernails dug into his skin, pulling him tighter to her. Jack quickened the pace as he could feel Sam begin to tremble beneath him, her breaths now coming in short, sharp gasps. He knew it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge. He pressed himself deep into her, stroking a thumb across her nipple and making her arch up to meet him. Leaning down to her ear, his breath tickled her skin.

"Come for me, Samantha," he whispered in her ear as she shuddered beneath him, gasping for each breath. She was vaguely aware of his smile against her ear as she called his name, every nerve ending on fire as her internal muscles clenched him tightly over and over. Then he was moaning her name and holding her tightly before collapsing on her chest, gasping for air.

They lay together just breathing for several minutes, unable to speak. Finally Jack lifted his head and placed a lazy kiss on her lips.

"Well, that was... something," he said with a grin, "Never pegged you as a screamer though!"

Sam giggled against his chest and half-heartedly swatted him with her hand.

"You're one to talk!" she exclaimed, her cheeks turning pink.

"What can I say? Now I can use your name it'd be rude of me not to!" He nipped at her ear. "In fact... wanna go again?" He whispered in her ear, making her shudder. She raised an eyebrow at him and stared down at his hips questioningly. Blushing slightly and waving a hand in that general direction, he rolled off her and onto his back, breathing deeply.

"Yeah... give me five minutes," he added, closing his eyes. "Ok, maybe ten."

Sam snorted.

"Hey, I'm not as young as I used to be!" he exclaimed defensively and Sam rolled onto her side, her hand stroking lazily up and down his chest.

"Could've fooled me"

Her stomach rumbled and Jack opened one eye to look at her.

"How 'bout we eat first?" He asked, motioning towards her growling stomach. "Keep our energy reserves up?"

Sam made to get up but Jack grabbed her round her waist and pulled her back down, rolling on top of her and kissing her deeply. She smiled seductively at him when he pulled away.

"I could do with a shower...wanna join me?"

Jack winked at her.

"You, me, naked, lathered up...you even need to ask?"

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A/N: As always, reviews are much appreciated. Thank you for sticking with me so far! :)


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